


The Scythe in a Field of Briars

by Geonn



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: F/F, Missing Scene, Reunion Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:29:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4018081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furiosa and the Valkyrie take some time to reunite after the sun sets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scythe in a Field of Briars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Title from Heather Dean's "Joan."

_Something was calling me, but I didn’t know what it was. I heard her voice on the winds, the brickfielder gusts blowing hot across the dunes, but I didn’t recognize it until I saw her high in the glistening perch and knew I’d found my home at last. I didn’t know I was following her call. I was always following her call._

The War Rig clicked as it cooled in the night air, its various components breathing a sigh of relief after being pushed so hard for so long. Furiosa rested her hand on its flank and ignored how much the metal burned. For all the things she despised about the Citadel and Joe’s War Boys, their machinery was a work of art. Though her blood and sweat had gone into its creation, even she was surprised at how well it had taken everything thrown at it that day. “Thank you,” she said softly, letting her hand fall from the ticking metal.

She could hear the others talking, those who were left and those she’d saved, but she was in no mood for conversation. They were all giving her plenty of space to absorb her failure. Her naïve hope that somehow the Eden she remembered had survived. Nothing in this world survived, she could see that now. All she had given herself was a slow suicide. But it was a death of her choosing. That felt like something to be proud of. 

Fool remained near the front of the rig by himself and she would expect no different from him. The girls needed to talk, needed someone else listening to know how they felt, but she and Fool were fine in the silence. But as much as she enjoyed silence, there was one voice she had dreamt for seven thousand nights that she would hear again. When the War Rig pulled up to the Roost she thought she was hearing things. She thought all those years of hope and longing manifested themselves as a mirage, but there was no mistaking that familiar cry.

Just as there was no mistaking the same woman’s stride. Even barefoot through shifting sands, she was unmistakable. Furiosa kept her back turned as Valkyrie approached. She finally turned after the blanket was draped across her shoulders. Valkyrie smiled and pressed against her from behind, and Furiosa reached up to rest her hand on the side of her long-lost friend’s head.

“It’s like a dream,” Valkyrie whispered. “You look so different. But I knew it was you the moment you spoke. I didn’t need to see.”

Furiosa said, “Just as I knew you from that cry.” She turned around so they were facing one another after decades apart. Furiosa felt like her memories of the Green Place and the Many Mothers came from a different life. A storybook she’d once read. But looking into Valkyrie’s eyes reminded her of what had once been. And, even crueler, it reinforced what she had lost. It was ridiculous of her to think that such a paradise could survive unscathed in this sour world. But some beautiful things had remained. She touched Valkyrie’s cheek with her hand, spreading her fingers to cover as much as possible, and Valkyrie leaned into the touch.

They remained standing like that in the shadow of the Rig for a long time before Valkyrie nudged the blanket out of the way with the back of her hand. Furiosa tensed, but she didn’t stop the exploration. Valkyrie carefully touched one metal strut of Furiosa’s arm. She dragged her finger up to the joint and slowly circled the bolt holding it in place. She smiled when she saw the wrench strapped to her “forearm.” She traced a line lower, to the back of Furiosa’s hand, where she threaded her fingers between the three bulky mechanical pincers. 

“Do you remember who did this to you?”

“My mother.” Valkyrie looked into Furiosa’s eyes and saw not rage, but tenderness and love. “The War Boys took us from here, dragged us across the desert. Three slow days we traveled back to the Citadel. The maniacs took great pride in telling us what Joe had planned. I was going to be his bride. The mother of his heirs. They bragged about what beautiful children I would give to their leader. Because I was beautiful. And I was perfect.”

Valkyrie took Furiosa’s real hand as well and held it tightly.

“She was crying when she did it. But I knew it had to happen. I knew it was so much better than what awaited me at our destination. Mother ambushed one of the men watching us. He was armed with an axe. There was no time to prepare me or to make it anything less than horrifying. She had only seconds. I put my arm against the side of the truck and my mother brought the blade down between my elbow and my wrist. My hand went out the window and landed somewhere... out in the dunes. One of the trucks behind us probably ran over it. And my mother. She damaged Joe’s property. So the War Boy that disarmed her stuck his blade through her throat and tossed her out of the truck as well.”

Valkyrie’s eyes were awash with tears. 

“I didn’t cry. They cauterized the wound, sewed it up, and dragged me before Joe anyway. They told him I had withstood the pain of losing my arm. He thought it meant I was powerful enough to fight. He didn’t know I’d spent my whole life with the Many Mothers. He didn’t know I could actually hold my own against any of his War Boys. First I fought against one at a time. Then two. When he discovered I could take out five by myself, he decided I was worth more to him out in the world.”

“Our brave Furiosa.” She laughed softly under her breath. She looked down and touched the leather straps buckled tightly around Furiosa’s abdomen. “May I?”

“Yes.”

Valkyrie lowered her head so she could see better in the dark, fumbling with the buckles of the contraption. Furiosa didn’t look away from Valkyrie’s face as the leather was loosened and then released. She breathed a little easier as each strap came free. Valkyrie reached up and lifted the shoulder pad while Furiosa gripped the ulna and together they lowered it to the sand. Valkyrie put her hand on Furiosa’s shoulder and massaged, and Furiosa closed her eyes as the tired muscles began to relax.

“It’s a heavy weight to carry.”

“I’m used to it.”

Her hand moved to Furiosa’s neck, and she dug her fingers into the tightness there. Furiosa grimaced and rolled her head forward. 

“Too hard?”

“No. Perfect. Don’t stop.”

Valkyrie rubbed harder. She put her other arm around Furiosa’s waist to pull her close. “Put your head on my shoulder.” She continued to massage Furiosa’s neck, but she slipped the fingers of her other hand under her belt. Furiosa turned her head so she could look at the people gathered nearby but she said nothing. The touch of Valkyrie’s hand on her skin was like fire in the cold night. She moved her fingers higher and touched the lines and creases cut into her flesh from the harness. She smoothed out the rough edges with the pad of her thumb and forefinger.

“Do you remember--”

“Yes,” Furiosa said before Valkyrie could say the words. There had been nights when it was all she could think about. In the Green Place there were rivers and flowers, deep green grass that made their toes wet as they ran through it to the mud. And in the early evening when the air turned cold, they would huddle together under a blanket. Furiosa bit her bottom lip as Valkyrie stroked her hip, leaving as if it left a trail of ash in its wake as she reached around her waist.

Furiosa pulled her hips back and lifted her head. Her lips were against Valkyrie’s cheek, and she pursed her lips in a gentle kiss as Valkyrie touched her. When they were young, when the world was terrifying but they had a peaceful place within it, she remembered how they had touched each other. How they found each other’s mouths and touched tongues even as they could hear the older women just on the other side of the hill. 

“Yours was the only flesh my left hand ever knew. You’re the only person it ever touched.”

“I’m honored.” 

Valkyrie slipped her middle finger between Furiosa’s labial lips, and Furiosa gasped, her posture straightening as she leaned back to look into her first and only true lover’s eyes. She saw sadness there, and the pain of the past twenty years. Losing their home and losing so many of the Vuvalini. Mothers and grandmothers, aunts and sisters, lovers and friends, left behind somewhere in the Wasteland. She saw Valkyrie was carrying weight on her shoulders as well. 

“Tell me what you remember, Furiosa.”

She could feel Valkyrie’s breath on her face. “I remember being in your arms. Lying under the plains of silence while you held me. When you gave me pleasure and I gave it to you in return.” She leaned in and brushed her bottom lip against Valkyrie’s nose, making them both smile. “I have missed you every minute since we parted.”

“I wish you could have come home to the Green Place.”

Furiosa brought her hand up and touched the corner of Valkyrie’s eye. Even in the dark she could see its color: a pale jade gleam that made her think of the ocean she’d once seen when she was small. “My Green Place is right in front of me. It’s all the paradise I need.” She kissed Valkyrie’s lips and stepped back, resting her shoulder against the side of the War Rig. Valkyrie added a second finger and twisted her wrist, and Furiosa arched her back.

“My Furiosa...”

She closed her eyes and turned her head away. “No...”

“Always.”

“I’ve changed too much,” she whispered, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “The Mothers didn’t even recognize me.”

“I recognized you,” Valkyrie said, moving her hand faster between Furiosa’s legs. “You are the daughter of Mary Jabassa, a fierce warrior who cut off her daughter’s arm rather than watch her become a concubine. You ride an unstoppable beast through the Wastelands, a mount like no other which you built from the ground up.” She bared her teeth, almost growling as she added a third finger. Furiosa cried out, and Valkyrie clapped a hand over her mouth before the sound was loud enough to carry. “You are the scythe in a field full of briars.”

Furiosa bit Valkyrie’s finger to make her let go. As soon as her mouth was free, she crushed it against Valkyrie’s, finding her tongue and moaning as she came. She had almost forgotten what an orgasm felt like, how completely it overtook her body, and she cried out against Valkyrie’s lips. She could hear Valkyrie’s voice but couldn’t make out the words from the low susurrus, choosing instead to believe it was the sound of Valkyrie’s voice riding on the air once more, summoning her home, drawing her through the devastated paradise that had once been their home.

 _Furiosa_.

She turned her head and opened her lips against Valkyrie’s throat, tasting her sweat and feeling the drum of her pulse. Valkyrie said, “I came for you so many nights. I filled the plains of silence with cries of your name as I rode my palm. Now it’s your turn, Furiosa. Say it for me as a whisper. Just for me. Softly. Be soft for me.”

Furiosa moved her mouth to Valkyrie’s earlobe, which she bit with a quiet groan. And then, “Valkyrie.”

“My Furiosa...”

She sagged against the side of the War Rig, pulling Valkyrie against her. She trembled in post-coital bliss, her head on Valkyrie’s shoulder. Valkyrie reached up and draped her hair over the top of Furiosa’s buzzed cut. They rocked from side to side in each other’s arms until Furiosa sat up and looked into Valkyrie’s eyes. Green eyes, beautifully emerald.

“We’ll most likely die,” Furiosa whispered. She looked out over the sand flats. “If not tomorrow, then somewhere out there.”

“Then we’ll have this. We’ll have each other, one last time before we leave this world of pain. We’ll have one last reminder that there is beauty and joy and pleasure even in a world gone sour.”

Furiosa dragged her fingers over Valkyrie’s eyes. “There’s always a Green Place.”

Valkyrie smiled and kissed Furiosa’s hand. “I would very much like to spend the rest of the night with you.”

“I crave that.” She kissed Valkyrie hard, letting her lips linger before finally pulling back. “We should make a plan for what happens tomorrow. I know you and the other survivors have made a home here--”

“We go where you lead,” Valkyrie said. “You were our prodigal child, Furiosa, and you’ve come back to us.” She brought Furiosa’s hand to her lips and kissed the knuckles. “We have no reason to stay here because you found us.”

“But the others... I’ve been away so long...”

“We’ve survived what the Wasteland threw at us, yes,” Valkyrie said. “We tricked and trapped and killed before we could be killed. But you clawed your way back from Hell. The Vuvalini will follow you. That is our vow.”

Furiosa kissed her again and then stepped back, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “Go find Semilla and tell her we need to talk. After we’ve come to a decision, you and I can spend the rest of the night in the Rig.”

Valkyrie smiled. “That sounds extraordinarily pleasant. I’ll return shortly.”

Furiosa watched her walk away, then turned to face the sprawling dome of sky. Darkness had washed out all the harsh edges of the world to make it look calm and peaceful. Some of the Vuvalini left their bikes running so the chugging sound of the engines echoed over the landscape. She didn’t mind; the world would feel foreign without that constant clatter and the scent of diesel fumes. She looked back at the mechanical arm she’d left lying in the sand. She knew she wouldn’t need it again that night, but she didn’t want to leave it exposed to the elements. She would pick it up, oil it, pack it away until it was needed again.

For now she was Furiosa again. Not an Imperator, not a savior, just one Vuvalini amongst her sisters. She closed her eyes and let the desert wind wash over her and wash away the object Immortan Joe had tried turning her into. Even as changed as she was, her sisters recognized her. Joe couldn’t carve away who she really was inside. Even if she died tomorrow, she would never forget that.

Joe called her Imperator. But she had always been and would always remain Furiosa Jabassa.


End file.
